


Bad Days And Sky Greys

by Stagcore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cold Weather, Depressed Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lucifer's Cage, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic, Triggers, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:12:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stagcore/pseuds/Stagcore
Summary: This is not finished but i'm swamped with work and assignments so here, have this teeny drabble sort of thing and ill try and produce something better later on :)





	Bad Days And Sky Greys

Freezing cold hands touch him and all Sam wants to do is to scream. Scream and tear the hands off of him. To fight until the energy goes out of him and there is nothing more he can do than curl up and cry. The hooks that pierce his skin and go through his limbs are so cold it burns. Lucifer comes closer and Sam can see the pure excitement and exhilaration he gets from torturing the hunter. A hand comes up to stroke Sam's cheek softly and he flinches back. The chain's digging in more. 

"Oh, Sammy." The archangel coos affectionately. A grin spreading across his face. "You'll never be free."

Sam wakes up in a cold sweat. His lungs burn and his chest heaves. He tastes blood and bile in the back of his throat and before he can register what he's doing he’s running to the bathroom on shaky legs that give out what he gets to the bowl. Emptying the little food that was in his stomach. 

When he’s done, he collapses boneless against the tub. The cold floor and the remnants of the nightmare makes him shake violently. Like his soul is trying to escape his flesh.

His head pounds and thobs and it’s all he can do to curl up on the floor and try to bury the sobs that are bubbling up in his throat. He’s not sure how long he stays like that for. Suffering silently. Memories of the dream clung to him until he was racking his nails up and down his arms. Still the ghostly sensation of fingers touching him lingered. He felt so unclean...

Crawling into the boiling hot water, Sam curled up in the bottom of the tub until he heard Dean bang on the door, making him jump.

"C'mon, Sammy!" Dean growled out, "You're gonna use up all the hot water!"

Dragging himself from the safe, warm water. Sam dries himself off and crawls back into bed. There's a million and one things he needs to do but the nightmare has sapped all his energy. Sam knows if he doesn't get up, Dean will come to see if he was okay which was nice and if he was literally in any other mood, the idea of Dean wanting to make sure he was doing okay would have warmed his heart a little. Make him believe that he was needed. That he had to stick around for Dean's sake.

Sam sighed as he heard Dean's footfalls on the concrete floor of the hall. A few seconds later came the rhythmic _knock, knock, knock_ of knuckles on wood. 

"Sam?" The familiar gruff voice called out. Deciding that it probably wasn't healthy to isolate himself, he told his brother to come in.

"You okay, man?" Dean asked as he took in Sam's wet, tangled hair and red rimmed eyes. Clearing his throat. Sam looked from his brother to the floor. 

"Not really," It was always the hardest part, admitting that he needed help. Admitting that today was another bad day to add to the string of 'bad days' where he couldn't make himself get out of bed or read or watch TV. Where the fogginess of his brain was so thick he forgot what he was doing. Forgot who he was. 

"Well move up then" Dean said as he shouldered his way onto his brothers bed. The beds were nowhere near big enough for the two of them to comfortably sit shoulder to should but Dean made it work. Reaching down for Sammy's laptop. "Put something good on" he huffed halfheartedly. 

And that's how the pair stayed. Warm and safe in bed in the only place either of them called home watching re-runs of bad television. It wasn't perfect but neither of them minded. After all, it was a damn sight better than where they had stayed in the past.


End file.
